


Zoo

by elldotsee



Series: Anniversary Ficlets 2020 [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Always, Clueing for Looks, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Implied Violence, John is still so impressed, M/M, after all this time?, casefic, description of murder victim, flirting at crime scenes, not graphic, quickie solution and home for bathtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elldotsee/pseuds/elldotsee
Summary: Sherlock and John investigate an unusual homicide and flirt shamelessly.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Anniversary Ficlets 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807645
Comments: 22
Kudos: 99
Collections: 10 Years of Sherlock





	Zoo

**Author's Note:**

> Oooh, I'm getting a bit behind with these. But I promise you'll get them all!

“Got a good one for you today.” Sherlock and John had scarcely stepped into the homicide division corridor of NSY when Lestrade appeared, sliding his arms into his jacket and ushering them back toward the lift. 

“Oh? We’ll see about that.” Sherlock’s voice had the same cool edge to it that it always did, but John noticed the way his eyes lit up. After so many years working together, John knew Sherlock could count on Greg to come through on the “good” cases; the ones with a puzzle that let Sherlock show off his brilliant mind and leave others dizzy in his wake. “Where?” 

“How’s this? Body found in the tiger pen at the London Zoo. Female, mid-twenties. Sex worker.”

John raised an eyebrow but before he could speak, Sherlock jumped in. 

“And? She fell in, turned into a big cat snack? Seems like even your lot could puzzle that one together.” 

“That’s the thing. No injuries in line with being attacked and she was found bound.” 

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully as the trio made their way to Lestrade’s cruiser. John slid into the back, letting Sherlock and his long limbs (and aversion to the back of police cars. John hadn’t ever worked up the nerve to ask about it) claim the passenger seat. As they pulled out of the car park and headed toward the zoo, Sherlock rubbed his finger against his bottom lip. 

* * *

“Who cleaned it up?” Sherlock demanded, spinning in place as if he could spot the guilty party, still with mop and cleaning rag in hand. 

“What’s that? Zoo’s been closed for the day, marked off as a crime scene. Far as I know, no one’s been inside. This is just how they found her this morning.” 

“Ohhhh.” He breathed. “Brilliant! Elegant!” Sherlock’s eyes positively sparkled and he clapped his hands together gleefully. 

“Thought this would tickle you. Got an idea then, already?” Greg looked amused. 

But Sherlock didn’t answer, already scrambling down into the enclosure by way of the steep cement wall. 

“Oi! There’s stairs, you don’t have to…” Greg trailed off, shaking his head and making his way for a door concealed in the side of the rock. John followed him, but only after he watched to ensure Sherlock had made it safely to the bottom. No need to add to the body count. 

The door opened out into a large area with grass, tall tree trunks and large rocks. John glanced around quickly. 

“The tigers? Where are they?” 

“Off exhibit. Won’t be back for a few weeks. Holiday in the Hamptons, I think I heard one say.” Lestrade grinned at his own joke and took off toward where Sherlock was crouched next to the victim, running his hands above her body without touching her, his mouth moving silently. She was dressed provocatively; short skirt, high heels, tightly-fitted top. Her wrists and ankles were bound with a heavy rope, her arms pulled behind her back. John squatted next to her and Sherlock handed him a pair of gloves.

“Pretty girl. Shame. Any identification on her?” 

Greg’s mouth opened but Sherlock was quicker. 

“Yes. Brittney Hill, aged twenty-six. From Yorkshire.”

“I’m no expert, but that doesn’t look like the usual BDSM-type binding. Heavy duty, industrial. Looks practical and hasty rather than any sort of safe sex play. Surely someone who worked in the industry would know the difference.” 

Sherlock flashed an appreciative look in his direction. “Well done, John. My thoughts exactly.” 

John flushed and cleared his throat. It didn’t matter how many years it had been or how long they’d been partners in every sense of the word, Sherlock’s praise would always be important. But then Sherlock’s expression changed, his eyebrows raised. “Is this an admission that you have a lot of experience and/or interest in various bindings? Purely for academic reasons, surely?” His eyes had a mischievous glint to them. 

John levelled a gaze at him, cool and steady. “And if I did?” Sherlock’s eyes widened slightly, his tongue unconsciously darting out to lick his lips. 

“Gents, there’s a woman lying dead here. The faster you can tell me how and why, the faster you can go home to do… whatever.” Lestrade waved his hand, somehow managing to look simultaneously exasperated and amused. 

John nodded and Sherlock was on his feet, prowling around the enclosure, but not before John caught the hint of reddening on his ears. Two years, they’d been sleeping together, co-parents and partners in every sense, and Sherlock was still so easy to rile up. John grinned to himself as he pulled out his notebook, jotting down notes as he examined the body. 

“John,” Sherlock called from somewhere behind him, his head behind a bush or something by the muffled sound of his voice. John tilted his ear in Sherlock’s direction but continued his examination. “Did you notice—” 

“The smell? Yeah.” John sniffed, leaning over the woman. Her dark hair had clearly been styled, but now the top of it was plastered to the sides of her head, slick and wet with some substance that had a very slight odor. John touched a gloved finger to her skin— it slid. “She’s covered in… something.” 

“Recognize it?” Sherlock’s voice was close again as he squatted next to John. He slid his hands under the woman’s body, feeling around and ‘hmm-ing’ quietly to himself. 

“Not exactly. It smells… salty, a bit fishy?” 

Sherlock’s eyes slid over to him and he gave a small nod. “I’m not sure either. A fish oil of some sort, maybe something used here at the zoo, but I would expect that near the aquatic animals, rather than the tigers…” He trailed off, pulling at the woman’s clothing and murmuring to himself. John leaned in to see what he’d found. The white skirt had flecks of blood and dirt on it, but more than that, it was on backwards, the tag against her stomach. 

“Dressed in a hurry?” 

“Or by someone else.” John suggested grimly.

Sherlock pulled up the back of her shirt — the straps of her bra were twisted, the hooks clasped wonkily, only one of the three hooks attached correctly to its loop. 

“I’m certainly no expert on women’s lingerie, but I don’t think…” 

“No,” John confirmed. “No woman would put her bra on like that. They’re wizards with those things.” 

“Cause of death?” 

“Strangulation, I think. Bruises on her neck.” 

“Mm-hmm. I agree.” 

Sherlock nodded and got to his feet, striding to the edge of the enclosure and out the door. John glanced around before following. Lestrade was outside on the footpath, speaking to a few other officers. 

* * *

An hour later, they were on their way back to the tiger enclosure, having taken a lap around the zoo, on the marked footpaths, but also in and around and through every conceivable entrance and exit into Regents Park and through the employee lockers and offices. They’d found an empty, unlabelled bottle discarded in the brush outside of the main entrance, near the parking circle. It matched the smell of the oil they’d found on the victim’s clothes. A quick chat with a zoo employee had confirmed that it was sardine oil, commonly used to make the animals take medication more willingly. They’d also found a few fibres caught in the fence near the tiger enclosure, which John now had tucked safely in an evidence bag in his pocket. 

“We should bring Rosie here.” Sherlock remarked idly as he crouched to examine a black tyre skid on the pavement in front of the exotic bird exhibit. 

John nodded, squinting into the midday sun as he looked around. “Yeah, she’d love that, I think. We need to get her that bigger pushchair first though. She’s outgrown this one.” They’d walked past the zoo entrance a few times on their occasional trips to the park with Rosie, but John hadn’t ever been inside. “She’d love those big Galapagos tortoises.” 

Sherlock smiled as he climbed gracefully to his feet, the soft smile he reserved especially for Rosie. “Oh yeah. ‘Toor-tah!’” He mimicked her word for turtles perfectly. It was one of the words he’d taught her, from a favourite book of theirs that he read to her frequently. He dusted his hands and tipped his head toward the tiger cage. “I believe I’ve got what I need. Shall we?” His cordiality was so at odds with their surroundings that John let out a chuckle as he fell into step beside his long-legged partner, who automatically slowed his own steps to match John’s. 

“Solved it already, have you, genius?” 

Sherlock’s mouth tilted into the little ‘vee’ that always made John a bit weak in the knees with endearing love. 

“Believe I have, yes.” 

“I’m always ready to be impressed by you.” John nudged Sherlock’s shoulder with his own as he opened the secret rock-wall door and motioned Sherlock inside. “You solved this one so quickly, we might make it home in time for Rosie’s bedtime tonight.”

“Quite right.” John could hear Sherlock’s pleased grin even as he navigated the dim staircase. They walked into the enclosure to find that the number of officers had doubled since they left — forensics and homicide experts milled about, collecting evidence and preparing to remove the body. Sherlock lifted his arm over his head and let out a sharp, attention-grabbing whistle with his other hand. 

“You can stop that now. I’ve solved it already, of course.” 

John stood next to Sherlock with his arms crossed, staring back at the sea of eyes that looked apprehensively in their direction. There were several familiar faces but also new ones that John had rarely encountered. _Oooh, aren’t you fresh faces in for a treat?_ He thought wryly. 

“Go on then.” One woman with bright orange-coloured hair said from nearby. She was dressed in forensics coveralls, bright blue sunglasses and Vans shoes. Sherlock nodded at her before drawing in a deep breath and launching into his deduction. John smirked as he watched her eyes go wide. 

“Find someone who has intimate knowledge of the zoo. Employee, possibly former. May have retained a key to the enclosure. Probably someone with a record of violence. Rapes, domestic abuse, etc. Probably not any other homicides. This was done in a panic, not well planned. This is not someone who has a long history of literally getting away with murder.” Sherlock moved around as he spoke, gesturing. John mirrored his steps unconsciously, stepping to the side, but never lowering his arms from where they were crossed, watching as Sherlock became more and more animated, his eyes positively sparkling. “Oooh. Yes. Does he bring them here? Maybe promises a rare sighting of the animals? No. There’s something else! Something I’m missing…” He pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth, but pulled them away quickly with a look of disgust. John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock sniffed at his fingers, looked at them, sniffed again. He snapped, flashing a brilliant smile at John and waving his hand around. “That’s it! The sardine oi! We’re looking for an employee, current or former though my guess is on the latter, with a history of violence, potentially against domestic partners, sex workers, that sort of thing.” 

Sherlock glanced around, waiting for someone to acknowledge this directive. The newest Sergeant, Detective Gregson, nodded and ducked into the dark of the staircase, his phone already raised to his ear. Sherlock gave a quick nod and continued, the corners of his mouth tipping up in a smile. John watched with an equally anticipatory smile. _Nearly to the good part now._

“So. This guy hired a sex worker, things got rough— too rough this time, and she died. He panicked. He got her dressed, snuck her in here through that back fence, wrapped in a sheet or something. He must have a car— no way to have gone unnoticed hauling a body through Regent’s Park otherwise.” He pointed at a forensics minion at random. “You. There were tyre tracks outside the Reptile House. Identify the car make. I don’t think it will match that of any official zoo vehicle. We found a few fibres caught in the fence between the Bird Safari and the Tiger habitat.” He motioned with a flap of his hand and John held up the evidence bag. “Look specifically in that high fence to see if there are any others. They'll be a perfect match for our killer's home linens, I'm sure of it. Go!” 

“Brilliant.” John breathed, for Sherlock’s ears only as several people scuttled to follow these directions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock flush slightly.

Sherlock re-focussed, his eyes alight. “Our killer brings her body here, still bound in the ropes he used, coats her in sardine oil and tosses her in the cage, hoping the tigers would snack on her and his homicide would go unnoticed. She’s a sex worker, so he probably figured no one would miss her.” 

“Sherlock…” 

“No, I’m not agreeing with him. This guy is a creep, obviously. And a sexist arsehole, pardon my language. Sounds like a real winner. This young woman had people who were looking out for her— she was reported missing less than six hours after she was last seen.” 

“But the tigers didn’t touch her. Why?” He pressed his hands together again, crinkling his nose at the smell, but didn’t pull them away. John stifled a smile. 

“They associated the smell with something negative, like you said. He could’ve been the one to regularly distribute the medicine? Or maybe he was just a shit zookeeper and the animals haven’t forgot yet. They say tigers have memories that rival elephants.”

“Do they, John? Hmm. Didn’t know that.” 

Gregson came trotting back and Sherlock whirled on him before he’d even got his breath back. 

“Well? Do you have something?” 

“Yes. Aaron Willis. Former employee. Worked with the big cats, specifically. Fired in 2011 for mistreating the animals in his care. Was arrested in 2012 and 2013 for battery.”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes narrowed. 

“Good work. Any vehicles registered to him?” 

“2001 Ford Fiesta. A team has been dispatched to his current residence.”

Sherlock clapped his hands together once. 

“Excellent!” He scowled at his hands. “I need to wash the oil off my hands and we have a little girl to put to bed. Coming, John?” 

John caught up to Sherlock as he strode toward the exit at the opposite end of the park, waving to Lestrade as they passed. 

“That was incredible.”

Sherlock tipped his head, his smile surprised and wide. 

“Really? After all this time, I still impress you?” 

“Every single day, my love.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I can't seem to stop writing casefic OR these two idiots in love. Not that I want to. 
> 
> Disclaimer: no, I've never been to the London Zoo. I did my best with Google Maps. I've no idea if sardine oil is given to animals to make them take their medicine. I'm not a zookeeper. And yes, I respect sex workers. 
> 
> Also yes, I got the idea from Tiger King. I'm not even sorry.


End file.
